


Intro to Business Law

by Raj_Sound



Series: Intro to Community Fanfiction [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raj_Sound/pseuds/Raj_Sound
Summary: Jeff takes Pierce on as a client. Annie and Britta get drunk and fail the Bechdel test. Troy, Abed, and Shirley make a commercial.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Series: Intro to Community Fanfiction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884427
Comments: 69
Kudos: 88





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place on January 14th, 2013. Picks up after the winter break, a month or so after Applied Intervention Dynamics. Enjoy!

Abed is the last one to take his seat in the study room. He looks back and forth across the table. Troy, Pierce, Shirley, Annie, Jeff, empty chair, Britta.

Something’s not right.

He scans the room again, this time from left to right. Britta, empty chair, Jeff, Annie, Shirley, Pierce, Troy.

“This is wrong,” he says solemnly.

“What is?” Jeff asks.

“You usually sit next to Britta, but now you’re sitting next to Annie.”

It’s a new development. This is the first time the entire group has gathered in the study room since last semester. A change in the format must mean something.

“Well, you see Abed, when two people love each other...” Jeff teases. Annie smacks his arm affectionately.

“Oh, get a room already,” Pierce grumbles.

“Pierce!” Annie protests.

“They have a room,” Troy says sullenly. “Annie’s room. And they’re in there all the time. I’m surprised either of you can walk.” In reality, they spend as much if not more time at Jeff’s place, since it affords them more privacy, but the accusation isn’t entirely unfounded.

“It’s not a competition,” Jeff retorts.

“But if it were, we’d be winning,” Annie says smugly. Jeff raises hand to share an obligatory high five with her. Annie doesn’t mean for them to be _that_ couple, but if Troy is going to call them out like that, all bets are off.

“Can we talk about something else?” Abed asks. He almost sounds irritated. “The resolution of your romantic arc was the focal point of the last episode. We don’t want to overdo it. We’re friends, not Friends.”

Annie starts to raise her hand. “Let it go Monica,” Jeff says gently.

“What are you and Pierce even doing here anyway? Didn’t you two graduate?” Britta asks.

They did indeed. Following a minor freak out in which Jeff imagined their evil counterparts invading their timeline armed with sci-fi paintball weaponry, he finally managed to graduate from Greendale Community College.

Not to be outdone by his best friend, sexual rival, and son he never had (his words) Pierce graduated too.

“I decided to pursue a second degree,” Pierce says, as though he’s pursuing a PhD from Harvard rather than yet another undergraduate degree from the third ranked community college in the Greendale area.

“And I was hoping all of you could help me brainstorm some ideas with me to drum up some business,” Jeff says. He also just wants to hang out with them, but he doesn’t mention that. He hopes they aren’t wondering why a newly reinstated lawyer has this kind of free time in the middle of the day.

They are. “Oh no. Is everything okay?” Shirley asks, switching to mom mode.

“Things are just a little slow, that’s all,” Annie says breezily. She knows Jeff has been feeling anxious about his new firm and the zero billable hours he has logged so far, so she makes a point to deflect any awkward questions. “It’ll pick up.”

She takes his hand and smiles brightly at him. He smiles back. Her confidence in him makes up for the deficit of confidence he has in himself right now. Turns out this whole supporting each other thing has merit.

The rest of the study group groans.

“We get it. You’re a couple. Move on,” Troy complains. He doesn’t mean to sound so dismissive, but it’s been the Jeff and Annie show nonstop for _months_ now, and he just wants to change the channel for a while.

Annie gasps indignantly. “We didn’t give you and Britta a hard time when you got together,” she protests.

“That’s because barely anyone noticed,” Jeff quips, “including Troy and Britta.”

“Hey!” Britta shouts.

“He’s not wrong,” Shirley murmurs. He isn’t.

“Jeff, if you’re looking to drum up some business, I might have a few contacts that would be interested in retaining your services,” Pierce offers magnanimously.

“Thanks Pierce. That was genuinely helpful.” Jeff sounds sincere, but he presses a button on his watch as he says it.

“What are you doing?” Britta asks.

“Waiting for the punchline.”

“Of course, you’re not Jewish or Asian, but I’m sure they won’t hold that against you,” Pierce says reassuringly.

“Six seconds. Not bad.”

* * *

_Get me some rope_

_Tie me to dream_

_Give me the hope_

_to run out of steam_

_Somebody said_

_it could be here_

_We could be roped up, tied up, dead in a year_

_I can't count the reasons I should stay_

_One by one they all just fade away_


	2. Act 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff is propositioned by two men. Annie prepares to play wing-woman. Shirley learns about advertising.

Jeff hasn’t been on many blind dates. Or actual dates for that matter, at least before he started dating Annie. Still, he imagines that a lunch meeting with a client he hasn’t met, spoken to, or even heard of before is kind of like a blind date. He only has one chance to make the perfect first impression.

It doesn’t help that the venue is somewhat less than professional for a business lunch. He was hoping for a place where the wait staff wears dockers instead of Daisy Dukes, but his mystery client insisted upon it. It’s okay. Jeff’s a professional. He can work with this.

That is, unless Pierce Hawthorne shows up to cramp his style. “Jeffrey, good to see you,” Pierce says boisterously, taking a seat at his table.

Jeff tries to be polite. Pierce set this whole thing up after all. “Pierce. Hi. Sorry, I can’t hang out right now,” Jeff explains apologetically. “I’m actually meeting a client.”

“I know! You’re looking at him,” Pierce beams.

Of course, he is. “Of course, I am,” Jeff says wearily. He really should have seen this coming.

“Look, I understand why you’re skeptical, but hear me out.”

“Okay.” He’ll humor Pierce for a free meal at least. His three-digit bank account balance will thank him for it.

“I’ve been looking for a new personal lawyer. Someone who can look after my interests, independent of Hawthorne Wipes,” Pierce explains.

“Someone to make all those sexual harassment lawsuits go away?” Jeff says knowingly. He knows what Pierce wants. A fixer. A mercenary for hire on retainer to protect rich assholes like Pierce from facing any lasting consequences of his actions. Basically, the exact kind of lawyer Jeff is trying not to be anymore.

“Among other things. You never know when I’ll meet the next Mrs. Hawthorne. Never get married without a pre-nup Jeffrey,” Pierce insists. “Especially if you marry Annie. She’s a sweet girl, but you know how her kind can be.”

Good grief. Jeff resets the mental clock of days since Pierce said something offensive. He was proud of Pierce. He almost made it to a full week.

“Wow. Really? I thought we got past the anti-Semitism,” Jeff replies sarcastically.

“I’m not saying this because she’s Jewish,” Pierce blusters, apparently offended.

“At least you didn’t say ‘Jewy.’”

“Jewish, Jewy, whatever,” Pierce says dismissively. “I’m saying this because she’s a woman. You might not realize this, since you’re accustomed hooking up with lonely truckers at rest stop bathrooms, but women can be very tricky, especially when it comes to money. Now I’m not saying she’s a gold digger, but she ain’t messing with no…”

“And somehow more offensive than I thought even you were capable of, but in the interest of time, let’s move past it,” Jeff says irritably. “Speaking of the next ex-Mrs. Hawthorne, how’s Melania?

“Oh, that’s over. Turns out, she was already married. Between you and me, I think she was just trying to get her hooks into me so she’d have somewhere comfortable to land after she leaves her husband.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that Pierce,” Jeff says, knowing the sarcasm will be lost on Pierce. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.” Privately, Jeff wonders how big of an asshole her husband must be if she’s considering ditching him for Pierce.

“Plenty of more fish in the sea,” he waxes, with the bravado of the world’s most eligible bachelor. “But we’re not here to talk about my sexual conquests. We’re here to talk about your future. Our future.”

“Well I hate to break it to you Pierce, but you’re not my type.” Pierce guffaws at that line. The man does love gay jokes.

“Just listen. If you don’t like what I have to say, we can just forget all about it and just have a nice lunch.”

“I’m listening,” Jeff sighs.

“You see, this isn’t really about me, or even about you. This is about Annie,” Pierce explains. “You see Jeffrey, a man needs to provide for his woman. I’ve been married seven times. I know what I’m talking about. Annie’s a good girl. She deserves a man who can take care of her. And if you want to keep her, you need to be that man.”

“Annie and I take care of each other,” Jeff says evenly. He reminds himself that Pierce means well. He’s a pompous, sexist, entitled idiot, but he means well. He means well. He does. Mean well. Idiot.

“You’re not thinking big picture Jeffrey. Annie has another two years at Greendale, then after that at least another two years of grad school. And she needs to go to a real school, a good school if she wants a degree that’s worth anything. Look at you. How many job offers have you gotten with a Bachelor’s degree from the illustrious Greendale Community College?”

Jeff hates to admit it, but Pierce has a point.

“Annie refuses to take charity from me. I respect that,” Pierce says proudly. “She’s determined to make her own way in the world. But wouldn’t it be nice if she had a partner she could turn to when it’s time to write those tuition checks? Someone that loves her. Someone that can support her. Someone that would do anything for her?”

Jeff feels a pit forming in his stomach. Pierce is making a dangerous amount of sense.

“Pierce, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jeff says reluctantly.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your friend. But if I work for you, then I’m your employee and that complicates things,” Jeff says. Playing the friendship card might be laying it on a little thick, but he needs a way out of this.

“Don’t think of me as an employer. Think of me as an investor,” Pierce says kindly. “You’re building something good here Jefferey. Something real. Something that has your name on it. I’d just like to be a part of it. Let me do this for you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jeff replies. The worst part is, he’s honestly tempted. Not because his Lexus is rapidly falling apart from lack of maintenance and that he’s taken to pro bono legal work for his landlord in lieu of rent. Okay, a little bit because of that. But what Pierce said about Annie…that matters.

“Wonderful! Now let’s eat. This place has wonderful hot wings. And the breasts aren’t half bad either, if you know what I mean.”

Everyone, including the waitress standing at their table waiting to take their order, knows what he means.

* * *

Shirley finds Troy and Abed in the study room in the middle of the day. Now that Kevin, or Chang, or whoever he is now has stopped faking Changnesia and can be trusted to do basic human things like a make a sandwich, she’s able to step away from Shirley’s Sandwiches every now and then during the day.

Troy is in what appears to be a crude robot costume made of cardboard boxes wrapped in duct tape. Abed is filming him on a rampage through a miniature version of what she suspects is Greendale, complete with matchbox cars and assorted miniatures for people.

“Hellooo,” Shirley says cheerfully. “What are you boys up to?”

“Cut,” Abed says. He turns to her to explain. “We’re making a commercial for Jeff’s law firm. Annie says he needs clients. Or at least a client. We’re using the power of viral marketing to make that happen.”

“We’ve already leased airtime on YouTube and public access television,” Troy says enthusiastically. “This thing is gonna be like…”

“Pop, pop!” Magnitude’s voice says from Troy’s phone speaker. Troy and Abed share their best friend clap to celebrate the setup and payoff.

“Oh that’s nice! Would you like some help?” Shirley offers.

“Annie and Britta said they were busy,” Troy says. Plus, things are still kind of weird with Britta since they broke up, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. Or think about it. And now he’s hungry for some reason. That’s been happening a lot lately.

“Jeff has a meeting and we didn’t ask Pierce for obvious reasons,” Abed adds.

“I meant that I could help you make your commercial,” Shirley says patiently. Talking to Troy and Abed is basically like talking to her boys, only it requires even more patience.

Troy and Abed turn to look at each other, then turn their backs to Shirley to whisper to each other.

“I think she could help,” Troy says, loud enough for Shirley to hear him easily.

“I’m not so sure. The three of us don’t team up very often. I don’t know if this will flow well,” Abed replies in his normal speaking voice.

“But if we say no, she’ll feel left out.”

“Plus, she might find out that Annie and Britta are going out tonight without her.”

“Annie and Britta are going out tonight?”

“Girl’s night. I already asked if we could come. They said no,” Abed explains.

“Maybe we should have a boy’s night. No, a _man’s_ night. For men,” Troy says eagerly.

“Good idea. Should we go to a strip club? Classic male bonding subplot. I’d say we should save it until Jeff’s bachelor party, but that might be a while.”

Shirley finally runs out of patience with this exchange and gets their attention with an exaggerated cough. “You boys realize I can hear every word you’re saying, right?” she asks.

They turn around to see Shirley glaring at them. Troy leans in close to Abed and whispers, still way too loud, “We did it again, didn’t we?”

“Yep,” Abed replies. He blows right past it without skipping a beat. “Shirley, would you like to help us make a commercial?”

“I would love to,” she replies. “Quick question. When will we be filming Jeffrey’s part? I should call him and make sure has wears the right shirt.”

“Jeff’s not in this,” Abed says.

“Yeah, why would Jeff be in this?” Troy asks.

“Shouldn’t Jeff be in Jeff’s commercial?” Shirley asks quizzically.

“Shirley, do you want to be a part of something great? Or do you want to take cheap shots from the comments section?”

“The first part?”

“Good. Then we better get you into wardrobe. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

* * *

Old Jeff kept his toiletries locked in a safe under the sink. New Jeff has closet space and a drawer for Annie. She spends most weekends at his place, so it only makes sense for her to have some storage space to work with. It’s not like they’re living together.

Jeff finds that Annie’s beaten him home, as Pierce’s business lunch turned into an all-day event, which for some reason included a train ride and all of which Jeff plans to count as billable hours.

“Hey Jeff,” Annie says happily. She takes a break from straightening her hair to kiss him. She loves the little smile he gets on his face after. She loves that she gets to kiss him now without it being a thing that they have to contextualize with glee club or debate performances or emotionally devastating school dances. She can just kiss him now and ask, “How was your day?”

“Weird," Jeff says as he loosens his tie. “I had long a meeting with a prospective client.”

“Pierce?” Annie asks, like she already knows.

“I can neither confirm or deny that. But how did you know?”

“He told me he was thinking of asking you to represent him and wanted to know what I thought about it. He said he values my opinion.” Annie beams at this. There are few things she enjoys more than when someone values her opinion.

That certainly answers a few questions. “What did you tell him?” Jeff asks.

“I reminded him that the last time he offered one of us money he got an entire class of at-risk pre-teens chanting ‘We want drugs.’ I also said that if he really thinks it’s a good idea, he should talk to you about it, since it’s not up to me,” Annie replies.

“What do you think I should do?” Jeff asks.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because I also value your opinion.”

“Awww,” Annie coos. She kisses him again, this time with passion instead of just an affectionate smooch. No tongue or anything, but just a little something to get his motor running.

“And because you’re going to give it to me regardless,” Jeff adds with a smirk.

Annie rolls her eyes. “True,” she admits, though she gives him a light smack on his chest. “Well, on the one hand, I think Pierce genuinely wants to help and could probably use yours. If there was ever a guy who needs a lawyer on call, it’s Pierce. And he has connections, which means more clients. He could be just the kickstart Winger and Associates needs.”

“But?” Jeff asks, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But it’s Pierce,” Annie shrugs.

“Yeah.” The implications speak for themselves.

“He’s probably just using it as an excuse to hang out with you,” Annie says, trying to look on the bright side as usual.

“We are supposed to meet for drinks tonight,” Jeff says. It occurs to him that Annie appears to be dressing up rather than dressing down for the evening. She changed out of the floral blouse and cardigan she wore earlier that day into a form-fitting black dress.

“You look nice by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Jeff experiences a brief moment of boyfriend panic. “We didn’t have plans, did we?” he asks, hoping he didn’t flake out on anything important.

“No, but I do. Britta wanted to have a girl’s night, just the two of us,” Annie explains. “Don’t tell Shirley.”

“That sounds fun. And odd.”

“She’s been playing it cool, but I think she was really hurt when Troy dumped her. I can’t believe he did that. I’m still kind of mad at him.”

“He cares enough about her to be honest with her when he realized he’s not ready for a relationship,” Jeff says, aware of the fact that he was the one that helped Troy work that out.

“I know,” Annie sighs. “I just hate seeing Britta like this. She’s my friend.”

“Well, if there’s anyone who can lift someone’s spirits, it’s Annie Edison,” Jeff says warmly.

“There’s that Winger charm,” Annie smirks. “And don’t stress yourself out too much about Pierce. If it doesn’t feel right, something else will come around.”

“Alright. Have fun with Britta. Wow. I just said those words in that order,” Jeff remarks.

“I’ll try. Good luck. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jeff walks her to the door. She doesn’t make it too far before he pulls her into one last breathless kiss, because damn if she doesn’t look amazing in that dress. Luckily he both trusts her completely and has gotten over the worst of his jealousy issues, because otherwise he would be deeply paranoid about her going out looking that ridiculously hot.

Unfortunately, the impromptu goodbye make out session distracts both of them from the nearby door opening.

“Dean, dong,” the Dean sing-songs. “Oh. I see that’s still happening.” His disdain is apparent.

“Sorry about the PDA,” Annie says sheepishly. “Love you, bye!” She heads down the hallway as quickly as she can manage in heels.

Jeff sighs. “Hi Dean. What can I do for you?” he asks begrudgingly.

“Jeffrey, I’ve told you a thousand times. You’re not one of my students anymore. Call me Craig. All my friends do.”

“Craig, as much as I love our inuendo-laden exchanges, I’m afraid I have plans.”

“I know, and I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I heard through the grapevine that my favorite alumnus has had a little trouble getting his legal career off the ground.” Jeff suspects the grapevine is the student email system, but he doesn’t bother mentioning it. “Anywho, I wanted to let you know that I might have a client that is desperate for legal representation. Now, they can’t pay much, but what they can’t pay in cash, they can pay in office space and free meals.”

“No,” Jeff says flatly.

“Jeffrey, please! It’s not for me. It’s for Greendale. You would be amazed at how many lawsuits we get.” Considering that half of the fire alarms are fake, Jeff is not at all surprised this. “Now usually it’s not a problem, since students who pay tuition with coupons aren’t really in a position to hire ‘good’ lawyers, but now that Pierce Hawthorne is suing the school…”

“Wait, did you say Pierce?” Jeff asks. "Pierce is suing the school?"

“Indean,” Craig replies “Now I love Pierce as much as I love the rest of the Greendale Seven, but ever since we had to rescind his degree due to that unfortunate incident with the women’s studies department, he has been on the warpath. He’s been telling everyone he’s got this new hotshot lawyer working for him and…”

Jeff doesn’t hear the last bit. He bolts down the hall to the stairwell mid-sentence. “I was still talking, but okay. I guess when you’re that handsome, you can afford to be rude,” Craig mutters to himself. “Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t stay mad at him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while! I'm alternating between this and a couple of other stories, plus the ever looming threat of real-life obligations. Enjoy. Your comments motivate me!


	3. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk crying, creative differences, and the unveiling of a master plan.

The Red Door is relatively dead, which suits Britta just fine. She isn’t looking for male attention tonight, which is why she stuck with her everyday clothes, the kind Pierce says project angry lesbian energy, which while homophobic, sexist, and stupid, is fine by her at the moment.

She wishes she told Annie to dress in a similar fashion, but other than her workout clothes, she doesn’t think Annie owns any clothes that aren’t at least somewhat effective at attracting male attention. Damn patriarchy. Annie is a brilliant young woman, but she’s not immune to indoctrination.

“Okay, first things first,” she declares. “Ground rules. This is girl’s night. Which means no boys allowed. No calling, no texting, no talking about or even thinking about men. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Annie replies with a solemn nod.

“We are two brilliant, cultured, educated women and we have plenty of things to talk about besides the gender that shall not be named.”

“Preach sister!” Annie cheers. Cultured and educated might be a bit of a stretch, especially the latter as Britta is a _terrible_ student, but Annie is happy to play cheerleader tonight. After all, she won’t need to do a basket toss to impress Britta and there’s basically zero chance she’ll get forgotten at a Taco Bell. She briefly wonders if she still has her old cheerleading outfit and if so how Jeff would react if she were to surprise him with it. That’s a popular guy fantasy, right?

Britta might have a point about the whole patriarchy thing.

“So, what should we talk about?” Britta asks.

Annie considers possible topics. She and Britta don’t have a ton in common, besides the study group, school, Jeff, Troy, and she’s beginning to see a potential problem.

“How do you like your classes?” Annie asks.

“My psychology classes are pretty interesting. Professor Duncan’s not a terrible teacher when he’s teaching a topic he kind of knows and pretends to care about. We’re studying the connection between low self-esteem and diminished standards for sexual prospects,” Britta explains without a trace of self-awareness.

“Britta! I thought we weren’t going to talk about guys,” Annie complains.

“Duncan’s not a guy. He’s British.”

“So is Daniel Craig.”

“Wow. You really do have a thing for older men,” Britta teases.

Annie lets out an offended gasp. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to talk about You Know Who. We’ve barely been talking for a minute and you’ve already broken your own rule.”

“You’re the one that brought up James Bond.”

“You did it again!”

“Okay, fine!” Britta snaps. “I’ve got an idea. Bar…person. Two shots of tequila please.” The bartender rolls his eyes at her, but he pour the shots and sets out limes and salt for them as well. “Every time one of us mentions a guy, starting now, we have to take a shot.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Annie says, eyeing the tequila like it’s liquid danger.

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Britta says as she picks up a shot glass. “This one’s for Troy Barnes, the best man-child I ever dated.”

A couple of hours later, Annie is a little tipsy, having violated the no boys talk rule on three occasions. Technically it was five, but Britta is long past the point of calling her out on it. Annie’s face is flushed and she feels warm and giddy and giggly. Britta’s face looks like she forgot to spit out the lime between shots.

“So, how’s the sex?” Britta asks.

“Drink!” Annie yells happily. She's good at this game.

Britta shakes her head, which makes her dizzy for a few seconds. “Doesn’t count,” she slurs. “I’m not talking about men. I’m talking about sex. With men. Whatever.” She takes the shot. “I’m just saying, I was there a few nights when you guys were still in the ‘doin’ it a lot phase.’ The walls in that apartment are pret-ty thin. And you put on quite the performance young lady.”

Annie buries her face in her hands. “Why would you say that? Oh my God, this is so embarrassing,” she moans. Just because she’s gotten to a point where she’s comfortable having sex doesn’t mean she’s comfortable _talking_ about sex, especially with Britta. “And for the record, we’re still in the ‘doin’ it a lot phase.’ I mean honeymoon phase. Which is not a phase. Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Annie may be slightly drunker than she thinks she is.

“Don’t be like that,” Britta complains. “We are young, modern, independent women. We should be able to talk about sex. Other women talk about sex with their women friends. Or so I’ve been told. So, come on girlfriend. Let’s dish.”

“Girlfriend?” Annie asks. She makes a sour face worthy of Britta. “Really?”

Britta looks disappointed. “Yeah, I tried it with Shirley and it didn’t work for her either.”

Annie finds herself wishing Shirley was with them. She loves Britta like a sister, but evens sober Britta is a _lot_ to deal with solo over an extended period of time. Drunk Britta on the other hand is Britta turned up to eleven. Britta at maximum Brittaness. More brash, more opinionated, more reactionary, and as it turns out, more melancholic.

“Do you think I was a good girlfriend?” Britta asks. All of the sudden she sounds small and sad. Annie blinks, trying to compensate for the mood whiplash.

“I don’t think I’m in a position to answer that,” Annie says diplomatically. Other than the brief window where she served as co-conspirator in Troy and Britta’s futile attempt to conceal their relationship from Abed, she didn’t have much insight into it. Neither Troy nor Britta talked to her about each other very often. They seemed happy, but the fact that they were completely oblivious to their own anniversary was kind of a red flag.

“I need an unbiased opinion. A woman’s opinion,” Britta explains. “And you and Shirley are my only female friends and I do not have that kind of relationship with Shirley. Plus, you’re like the queen of the girlfriends. You tamed _Jeff Winger_.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “I did not _tame_ him,” she replies with a huff. She’s not a fan of any of what that implies.

“So what, is he like your soulmate or whatever?” Britta challenges. It’s not like she has anything resembling romantic feelings for Jeff, but she’d be lying if she said that part of her wasn’t just a little bitter that even when they were sleeping together, he preferred spending time with Annie.

Who did Jeff run to the second Britta and Slater confessed their love to him? Annie. Who did Jeff lock down the study room for to search for a missing pen? Annie. Who did Jeff run around in the dark with solving dumbass mysteries? Annie. Britta was just the, how did she put it? A pit stop on the way to something real.

“No,” Annie replies, which seems to shock Britta out of her forlorn recollections. “We met, we became friends. There was a spark, but for a long time neither of us were ready for it. In the meantime we became best friends and eventually we fell in love. But we still have to work at our relationship. Jeff is still cynical and selfish sometimes. I’m still high-strung and rigid. But I like to think we bring out the best in each other.”

“See, that right there. You know how to say sentimental crap like that,” Britta laments. With Troy I was never like…I could never say stuff like that.”

“Putting yourself out there, taking a real risk. It’s hard. It’s scary. You guys literally locked us in a room to force me and Jeff to talk about how we felt about each other, remember?”

Britta shakes her head. Annie isn’t getting it. “You got an asshole to turn into a good guy just so he’d have a shot with you. I could never do that. I dated one asshole after another and they just treated me like crap. And then I finally thought I had something with a really good guy and I couldn’t make it work,” Britta says, her voice breaking. “I really am the worst.”

In that moment, Annie realizes that this isn’t about Jeff or Troy or Blade _don’t laugh_ , or anyone else for that matter. This is about Britta, a girl with low self-esteem and diminished standards for sexual prospects. A woman that hates herself too much to appreciate just how much she is loved. And it breaks Annie’s heart.

* * *

Shirley feels what Annie would describe as a stress headache coming on. That tense pain that starts where her nose meets her forehead and radiates up into her brain. Normally, these are an unfortunate but inevitable byproduct of being a mother to three boys. Today they are a direct result of her decision to help her other children.

“I’m just saying,” she explains with what little of her patience she has left, “as a fellow business owner, if I were to hire a talented, if slightly eccentric film maker to make a commercial for me, it would be important that commercial to include certain details, like an address and phone number.”

“Jeff doesn’t have an office anymore,” Abed replies. “And I don’t think he’d want us to use the address to his apartment. Annie didn’t like it when we turned the living room into a studio.”

“He has a phone,” Shirley reminds him, her patience wearing thin.

“Yes, but his number starts with five, five, five,” Abed complains.

“And why is that a problem?”

Abed glares at her like she’s the one that said something crazy. “It’s derivative. If Jeff wanted an unimaginative formulaic gun for hire director to make a paint by number production, he would have hired Chris Columbus. Instead, he hired me.”

“Technically, Jeff didn’t hire you,” Troy mentions reluctantly, as “hired” implies that they’re getting paid. Troy believes in Abed’s vision, but he also believes in staying on Shirley’s good side, which seems like an increasingly unlikely goal as the hour grows later.

“Everyone says they want high concept, but they always tear it down as soon as they get it,” Abed complains.

“Does ‘high concept’ mean a bunch of nonsense with robots and monsters that has nothing to do with bein’ a laywer?” Shirley retorts angrily. “It’s a thirty second commercial Abed!”

“Exactly. I have thirty seconds to make a lasting impression.”

“That impression should probably have the words Jeff Winger, attorney at law, and his phone number!”

Abed stares at her for a few seconds. “I don’t think you respect my vision.”

Shirley stares right back, defiantly. “Well I think you’ve lost sight of the purpose of this little production. Remember sophomore year when you were parading around campus like you were Muslim Jesus?”

Abed stares off into space for a few seconds, then a few seconds more, and then for an unnerving length of time.

“Abed? You still with us buddy?” Troy asks nervously.

“Yes,” Abed says, blinking. “Sorry. I thought we were going to cut to a flashback there. It’s late. I’m tired.” He turns to Shirley. It occurs to him that she has children and a husband to return to and that he’s monopolized enough of her time. “Why don’t you go home Shirley? I don’t think we need you anymore.”

If Abed phrased it a little differently, as in maybe not the worst way possible, things might have gone a bit differently. It’s bad enough Annie and Britta ditched Shirley because she’s not young enough or anorexic enough to be seen at the club with those two skinny bitches, but now she’s being sidelined by a crazy fool and the fool that follows him. She may be a loving Christian woman, but she can only take so much.

“I see. That’s how it’s gonna be, is it?” Shirley growls. “Well that’s fine. I can tell that I’m not wanted here. Good luck with your commercial boys. I’ll see you next week.” With that, she grabs her purse and leaves the study room with an angry huff.

“I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?” Abed asks, unnerved. Suddenly he isn’t tired anymore.

“Yeah,” Troy sighs.

“This is going to come back to haunt us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“We should probably warn the others.”

“Probably.”

Troy and Abed share a look, then wordlessly agree to play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to see who has to send the group text. The group tends to blame the bearer of bad news when something like this happens, so they’re both determined to win.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” They both choose scissors. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” They both choose rock.

Unfortunately, they’re so familiar with each other that they tend to tie, even when they get tired of playing and try to lose on purpose just to end the game. This is further complicated by the fact that neither of them will choose paper on principle, as it makes no sense that paper covering rock would defeat it. A paper covered rock is just a rock with paper on it. You can still hit stuff with it. Paper has no effect.

“I hope Annie and Britta are having fun,” Troy mutters. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Two scissors again. It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

Annie and Britta are not having fun. They are both drunk girl ugly crying at a bar and making everyone around them, especially the bartender, very uncomfortable.

* * *

The posh cigar bar Jeff finds Pierce isn’t called Single Malt Platinum Boobs and Billiards Club, but it might as well be. It’s decadent, opulent, a little sleazy, and the exact sort of place Old Jeff would spend an unconscionable amount of his time and money. Jeff feels strangely out of place there, like he stumbled into another timeline, one where he was never disbarred and continued on his shallow, empty, loveless path. It’s enough to give him chills.

“Jeffrey!” Pierce yells cheerfully. He’s wearing velvety burgundy robe worthy of Hugh Hefner in both affluence and sliminess. He summons Jeff to his table with a wave. “What a wonderful surprise. Garcon? Your best scotch, neat, for the best lawyer in Colorado.” The waiter nearby hurries off to bring Jeff’s drink.

“You’re suing Greendale?” Jeff asks without preamble.

This doesn’t seem to bother Pierce. “Oh good, you already know,” he says, like it’s a pleasant surprise. He hands Jeff a small stack of paperwork, who starts skimming through it. “Wait. How do you know? Did Gilbert tell you?”

“It doesn’t matter. Why are you suing Greendale?” Jeff demands, grimacing at the figures in the paperwork.

“A number of reasons. Fraud, negligence, defamation of character,” Pierce explains. “Do you remember how many times I was seriously injured while I was there?” Several times. Most were his own damn fault, though once was due to him double-bouncing on an admittedly unlicensed trampoline. “And then they had the audacity to revoke my diploma? I spent almost thirty-thousand dollars at that school, and look how they repay me.”

“You are looking at millions in damages. You’ll bankrupt the school!” Jeff protests.

“Exactly!” Pierce says, tenting his fingers like he’s a supervillain. “Then I can buy it, for pennies on the dollar. I can make it better. Run it like a proper business. I can make Greendale good again. Just imagine it. Pierce Hawthorne Community College of Greendale.”

“This is insane. Aren’t we past the part where you go behind everyone’s back to do something petty and selfish that screws over everyone? It’s very ‘Season Two,’” Jeff says mockingly.

“You can save the moralizing speech Winger,” Pierce replies crossly. “Greendale is a diploma mill. It’s a joke. You’ve said so yourself. You know it. I know it. Hell, it’s why you chose to go there. Now that might not matter to you and me, but to someone who’s just starting out, trying to carve out a place for herself in this world? That diploma might as well be a death certificate.”

If the figures in front of him are anything to go on, there is objective truth to what Pierce is saying. A post-graduate career placement rate of less than two percent? _Really?_ Jeff wouldn’t be surprised if Greendale gave diplomas to dogs.

Jeff’s scotch arrives. He ignores it. Pity, as it smells like it’s the good stuff, but he needs a clear head.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jeff insists, sounding far less confident than he intends. “I’m sure if you just make a formal apology and a small donation and promise never to…urinate on the department head’s parking sign, really Pierce?”

Pierce shrugs. “Once you get to be my age, when you gotta go, you gotta go.”

Jeff stares at Pierce intently. The old man’s motives are bizarre on a good day and he’s alarmingly frivolous with his money, but this seems like more than petty revenge or a bad joke taken too far. “Pierce, what’s this really about?”

Pierce sighs. “You know what I see when I wake up every morning and look in the mirror?”

“A crazy old man.”

“I was just going to say old man.”

“I stand by my answer.”

“I don’t have a legacy Jeffrey,” Pierce says pensively. “I don’t have children. My step-children only show up when they need money and disappear as soon as they get it. My whole life I’ve just been coasting on what my father accomplished. But you know, when I came to Greendale, I thought here I could do something that matters. Accomplish something meaningful. Something just for me. I spent eighteen years of my life at this school trying to do that and just like that, it’s gone.”

Jeff understands where Pierce is coming from. The bitterness, the anger, the sorrow, the regret. One of the reasons that Jeff avoids spending much time alone with Pierce, besides his overall personality, is that Pierce reminds him too much of the ghost of his own future. Lonely and crazy.

“I’m sorry Pierce. I truly am,” Jeff says sincerely. “But you can’t just take something that doesn’t belong to you, slap your name on it and call it yours.”

“Sure I can, if you help me,” Pierce contends. “Jeff, I’m not the bad guy here. You and me, we want the same thing. And if that doesn’t convince you, maybe this will.” Pierce takes a small slip of paper out of the pocket of his robe and hands it to Jeff.

“What’s this?” Jeff asks. It’s sort of a rhetorical question, but not entirely. This check is made out to Jeff Winger and the amount has more zeros than Jeff has seen on anything other than a credit card balance in years.

“Your first paycheck.”

“Pierce, this is…” Too much? Too generous? _Too tempting_?

“Double what you made at your old firm in a month,” Pierce says proudly. “You can expect a check just like that every two weeks for as long as we work together.” So, four times what he made at his old firm pre-Greendale, and that was already a lot of money. “That’s Annie’s tuition Jeff. That’s a wedding. That’s a down payment on a house. A college fund for your children.”

“I can’t…” Jeff says, though he can’t remember why.

“You can, and you will,” Pierce says, confident that he’s made the sale. Getting Jeff to sign the bottom line is just a formality at this point. “Because you love Annie, and so do I, and we are going to do whatever it takes to ensure that she gets the life she deserves.”

Jeff’s phone buzzes at him. It’s a welcome distraction.

**ANNIE E., 1247:**

**We need a ride. Tequila is evil and Britta’s a handsy drunk. We're at L Street.**

He texts her back.

**Jeff Winger., 1247:**

**On my way**

**ANNIE E., 1248:**

**No rush. Love you. [kiss emoji] [heart emoji]**

“I gotta go,” Jeff mutters.

“Of course. Duty calls,” Pierce replies knowingly. He’s been married seven times after all. He claps Jeff on the back affectionately. “I’ll see you tomorrow Jeffrey. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit longer than I intended, but here's Act 2! Please let me know what you think in the comments, as I am an egomaniac who needs constant validation. Enjoy!


	4. Act 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff faces a moral dilemma, the girls share a classic college experience, and the study group discusses the future of Greendale.

Dean Pelton is pretty much the last person Jeff wants to see at the moment, but the universe hates him, so that’s the first person he runs into the moment he steps outside of The Hawthorne Club. Not it’s actual name, but who cares.

“Jeffery!” Craig says brightly. “What a coincidean. Do you come here often?” Jeff considers the possibility that the dean put tracking software on his phone.

“No, and you can’t afford to,” Jeff says bluntly, not bothering with even a hint of politeness. “What are you doing here Craig?”

Jeff’s tone seems to put Craig off balance. “Well, I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to see a friendly face,” he rambles. “I took two buses and a cab to get to the neighborhood, and now that I’m saying it out loud, I can hear how creepy it sounds.”

Jeff glares at him. “Am I going to have to get a restraining order?”

“You slay me Jeffery. Don’t worry, I got the message with the first one. I was just wondering if you had a chance to think over my proposition.”

“It’s all I can think about,” Jeff says through his teeth.

“Really?” the Dean asks in a hopeful, propositioning tone.

“You’re talking about the lawsuit, right?”

“Are you?” Craig asks coyly.

“Yes,” Jeff replies flatly.

“Well then, I suppose I am too,” Craig huffs, disappointed. “I really am in a bind here Jeffrey. I can’t afford a better lawyer.” He wasn’t supposed to say that. “I mean I can’t afford to pay you more. Or at all really.” Or that. “You know what I mean.”

Jeff feels what Annie taught him years ago are the tell-tale symptoms of a stress headache. “I know exactly what you mean. Because I’ve seen Greendale’s financial records. You spend all of the school’s money and then some on puppy parades, ice cream socials, commercials, fake spaceships, renaissance fairs, paintball wars, _five_ dances in one semester, and more costumes than a Vegas cabaret!” Jeff thunders.

“I’ll have you know I pay for those costumes out of pocket,” Craig protests.

“Five dances Craig! One dance is too many dances at a community college.” It really is. The average age of a Greendale student, even excluding extreme outliers like Leonard is like thirty. “Did you know Greendale hasn’t made a profit in _years_?”

“I know. It’s all they talk about at our shareholder meetings,” Craig says dismissively. “So boring. But don’t worry. I won’t let them raise tuition. ‘No More Than 64.’ That’s my guarandean.”

Jeff gets the distinct impression that he’s conversing with a brick wall. A very stupid brick wall. “Do you have any idea how to run a school at all?” Jeff asks, hoping against hope that Dean Pelton is capable of giving an answer that isn’t completely disappointing.

“I’m learning Excel, if that answers your question,” he replies proudly. So much for that.

“It does. Pierce is right,” Jeff says, awestruck that he said those three words in that order. “He’s not the bad guy here. You are.”

“Jeffrey!” Craig brings his hand to his chest, deeply hurt and offended. This, from his favorite student/best friend/karaoke buddy?

“Don’t Jeffrey me. Your biggest donor is suing that toilet you call a school because he’s crazy enough to care about it and he thinks he can run it better than you. And the craziest thing is, he’s probably right!” Jeff rants.

“It's not easy being Dean, Jeffrey!”

“Then stop being the Dean!”

“It's my whole ideantity!”

“Your job is not to hand out degrees,” Jeff seethes. “Your job is to make Greendale a toilet that people don't have to be crazy to care about.”

“I can’t do that if Pierce Hawthorne sues the school out from under me,” Craig cries.

“That’s not my problem.”

Jeff storms off to his car, with Craig tailing behind him, pleading. “Please! Help me Jeffrey! You’re my only hope!” Jeff opens the door and takes his seat, not bothering with his seatbelt. “Jeffrey!” Jeff slams the door, starts the car, puts it in gear. “Well, can you at least give me a ride?” Jeff peels out of the parking lot, leaving the despondent Dean alone with no obvious way home.

* * *

One of the perks to dating his best friend is that he can talk to her about just about anything, mostly without judgement. Okay, that last part isn’t true, but Annie’s judgement isn’t like Britta’s reactionary moralizing or Shirley’s thinly veiled condescension. Annie comes from a more understanding place. She’ll tease him, call him out, and take him to task, but only because she holds herself to an even higher standard.

Which is why, despite the full-blown stress headache and world-weary tiredness he tells himself is only the result of the late hour and not the fact that he’s almost forty, he’s willing to carry a very drunk Britta to his car in his arms while a not quite as drunk, but still pretty drunk Annie holds onto him to steady herself.

“Would it be weird if I told you that I missed you?” Jeff asks once everyone is buckled in.

“Awww!” Annie says with happy drunk energy. She quit drinking a while ago, but she still has a little booze flowing through her veins. She runs her fingers down Jeff’s arm affectionately. “Long night?”

He heads straight to his apartment. Britta can sober up on the couch. “You have no idea. How was girl’s night?” he asks.

“Weird. Kind of sad. Troy’s right. Alcohol really is the Lifetime movie of beverages,” Annie says thoughtfully. “But it was good though. I think Britta was able to get some stuff off her chest.”

Jeff smiles. Annie’s good at taking care of people, and Britta could really use someone to take care of her. She’s kind of a hot mess right now. “You’re a good friend Annie.”

“Thanks. It wasn’t that bad. At least until Britta got a little too drunk and wouldn’t stop asking me to make out with her.”

“Really?” Jeff asks, bemused.

Annie nods emphatically. “She kept insisting that I need a college lesbian experience,” she explains.

“You dunno what you’re missing,” Britta mumbles drunkenly from the back seat.

“Wow. Pierce will never let her live that down.”

“Which is why we can never tell him,” Annie says somberly. The ladies of the study group have gotten the sexual harassment down to an all-time low. No sense rocking the boat. “Speaking of Pierce, how was your night?”

“Weird. He wants me to help him sue Greendale,” Jeff replies. Technically he shouldn’t have told her that. An ethics board would flay him for violating privilege so casually, but they’re not in the car right now, Britta is dead to the world, and he trusts Annie completely.

“What? Why?” Annie asks. Not that such a movie is out of character for Pierce, but there’s usually a build up before he does something like this.

“For a lot of reasons, most of them petty and stupid. But mainly because Greendale is a dream killing diploma mill that’s being run into the ground by an idiot.” Annie finds the way Jeff said that last part disturbing. It sounds like he believes it. Granted, Jeff has said worse things about the school in the past, but not since the Star-Burns Memorial Riot of 2011.

“Greendale is not a dream killing diploma mill,” she protests.

“We’ve been at that school for four years. Do you know anyone that actually graduated from Greendale and went on to do something meaningful with their lives, besides air conditioner repair?” he asks.

Annie frowns as she recalls that few people actually seem to ever leave Greendale, including people who were there long before she started school herself. Garrett, Magnitude, Star-Burns (who only escaped Greendale via meth explosion), ~~Fat~~ Neil, they all seemed to linger. And that’s not including the career students like Leonard and his senior click. And Pierce for that matter.

“Shirley started her sandwich shop,” Annie says, glad to finally have an example and a little embarrassed it took her so long to think of Shirley.

“At Greendale,” Jeff counters.

“You started your own law firm,” Annie retorts. Admittedly, not the best example.

“And my only prospective clients are Greendale and the guy that’s suing it.”

“What are you going to do?” Annie asks. She hasn’t pried into Jeff’s financial situation, but there have been hints that the savings from his summer consultant work are dwindling rapidly.

“I don’t know,” Jeff sighs. “Pierce is offering me a lot of money to help him and if I don’t, someone else will. And even if I can talk him out of suing, it’s only a matter of time before someone else with deep pockets and a score to settle goes after the school. City College, Subway, the Osbourne family…”

“Who?” Annie’s mind goes to a weird reality show that was on back when she was in middle school, but that can’t be it.

“Star-Burns’ relatives,” Jeff clarifies. “Turns out, they’re loaded.”

“Huh. There were so many layers to the Star-Burns onion.”

“Normally I know what the right thing to do is. I just don’t to do it because it involves doing things and I put it off until you badger me into doing it.” Annie rolls her eyes at that. “But Pierce managed to make a convincing argument that doing the selfish thing and doing the right thing are one in the same.”

Annie privately wonders if this is the sort of logic Old Jeff used to navigate life, but she doesn’t mention it. “It sounds like you’re going to help Pierce,” she says carefully.

“Maybe. And on top of all that, the Dean offered me the thankless job of ‘saving Greendale’ in exchange for free meals and office space, since apparently the school can’t afford to pay me.”

“That just sounds like slavery with extra steps,” Annie says with a frown.

“It sure doesn’t pay my rent,” Jeff laments. “Or my credit card bills. Or my parking fees. Did you know Greendale started charging for parking?”

“It was in the newsletter.”

Jeff shakes his head. The last time he felt this conflicted about something was before he told the brilliant, brave, kind, beautiful woman sitting next to him how he felt about her. “What do you think I should do?” he asks her. She’s his best friend. She knows him better than he knows himself. She’ll know what to do.

But that doesn’t mean that she’ll tell him. “I can’t make this decision for you Jeff,” Annie says. She sounds equal parts apologetic and resolute.

“Why not?” he asks. “Just bat those doe eyes at me and I’ll do whatever you say. It’s basically your superpower.” Annie laughs. He isn’t wrong about the kind of power she has over him and they both know it. Which is exactly why she’s choosing not to use it this time.

“Jeff, you know I love you…but you don’t need me to tell you what to do.” Because with that love, comes trust. “I know you’ll do the right thing.” He lets his right hand drop from the steering wheel so she can take it and give it a reassuring squeeze. Eye contact is still their primary method of communication, but touch goes a long way too.

The sound of Britta snorting loudly from behind them snaps Jeff and Annie out of their little moment.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Jeff asks. He gives her crap, but she’s his friend, and he worries about her too.

“She’ll be fine. She just needs to get her confidence back,” Annie reassures him. “It shouldn’t be a problem. She’s a really good kisser.”

“You’re probably right. Wait, what?”

Annie doesn’t reply. She turns up the radio instead.

_I kissed a girl and I liked it_

_The taste of her cherry chap stick_

Jeff nearly blows through a red light. He hits the brakes just in time, causing Annie to squeak in surprise and Britta to groan in displeasure. Jeff stares at Annie wide-eyed. She smirks back at him impishly.

“I’m kidding!” Annie says, once she’s convinced that he’s been teased enough. “Besides, Britta already had a shot with me after the whole Paige thing and she turned me down.”

Jeff isn’t sure what Annie’s referring to, but despite what some of his fantasies would have him believe, he’s glad the relationship between the two most important women in his life (besides Shirley and his mother) is completely platonic. Between Troy and Britta, Britta and Jeff, Jeff and Annie, and Annie and Abed that one time (but it was during paintball and Abed was Han Solo, so it doesn’t count apparently) the group really is becoming as dysfunctional and incestuous as the cast of the Brady Bunch.

“Okay, one of these days when you’re sober and I’m not in the middle of a moral dilemma, you’re going to have to tell me that story,” Jeff replies.

“Deal.”

* * *

Jeff wakes up late, but he’s still awake before Annie and Britta. He smiles at Annie’s disheveled hair as she snores softly on her side of the bed. He gets up to retrieve a glass of water and some aspirin for her, leaving both on the nightstand before he leaves the bedroom.

He checks the trashcan they left next to Britta, who is splayed out across the couch, having kicked the blanket he draped over her last night onto the floor. The trashcan is still empty. He’s impressed by her ability to hold her liquor.

Jeff hopes a run will clear his head, but he doesn’t figure out exactly what he wants to do until he gets back. It’s the damn diploma that finally makes things clear to him, anus seal and all. He thinks of the study group that came up with that seal, the seven misfits that found each other and became a family. He stares at his diploma for a while, the words Greendale Community College and Jeff Winger written in fancy script on expensive paper. Right now, the degree he occasionally worked kind of hard for was all but worthless. But maybe it doesn’t have to be.

What starts as a notion quickly evolves into an idea. But to become a plan, Jeff needs some help. He makes a pot of coffee, knowing that the aroma will summon a sleepy Annie. Sure enough, she emerges, yawning as he hands her a cup.

“I figured out what I’m going to do,” he announces quietly.

Annie smiles. “Good,” she says before taking a sip.

“It’s going to be a lot of work. Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Annie Edison is never one to shy away from hard work.

He doesn’t care that she just woke up and has tequila infused morning breath. He kisses her anyway.

“I love you.” To think that even the idea of saying those three words used to terrify him.

“I love you too.”

The hungover zombie formerly known as Britta stumbles into the kitchen before Jeff can explain further. “Sorry to interrupt,” she mutters, “but I have to ask. We didn’t have a three-way last night, did we?

“No,” Jeff replies.

“Thank God.”

“I just watched. I gotta say, you ladies put on quite a show.”

“Jeff! Gross!” Annie protests. She hits him on the arm hard enough to hurt. “Britta, nothing happened. Jeff brought us home and you passed out on the couch.”

Britta nods. “That’s good. Please excuse me.”

She runs to the bathroom. Jeff and Annie wince as they hear the tequila making another appearance.

“I should go take care of her,” Annie sighs. “Woohoo, girl’s night.”

Britta wretches again. Jeff shakes his head as Annie heads into the bathroom to hold her hair back.

* * *

Pierce is already eating by the time Jeff arrives at the restaurant. Which is fine. Jeff doesn’t intend to say long.

“There’s my favorite attorney,” Pierce says cheerfully. “You ready to get started? Tax season is just around the corner. Damn Democrats are going to want their pound of flesh. I’m counting on you to protect me. Plus, I had a little misunderstanding with a cocktail waitress last weekend I was hoping we could make go away.” He says all of this at a volume at which everyone in the restaurant can hear him. “And of course, we have this Greendale business we need to discuss.”

Jeff decides to be direct. “Pierce, I’m sorry, but I can’t be your lawyer.” He takes the check out of his pocket and places it on the table next to Pierce’s plate.

“Why the hell not?” Pierce asks indignantly.

“Because you deserve a good lawyer,” Jeff says sincerely. “Someone who’s willing to get their hands dirty to keep yours clean. And I can’t do that. I can’t be the lawyer that you need me to be and still be the person that I want to be.”

“So, that’s it then? You’re just going to abandon me in my hour of need?” Pierce shouts indignantly.

“I didn’t say that.” Jeff pauses for a moment. Words are important, but timing is everything. “You know what’s better than having a lawyer around? Having a friend around to keep you from needing a lawyer. That, I can do, free of charge.”

“What about Annie?”

“We’re a good team,” Jeff replies confidently. “We’ll figure something out.”

Pierce regards Jeff carefully. This really isn’t how he thought this conversation would go. He assumed they’d have a nice breakfast, discuss how to bankrupt and purchase the school, fire the dean, make Pierce the new dean and build a statue in his honor on the quad. Luckily, Pierce Hawthorne is an especially quick-witted individual with a very good brain, capable of thinking on his feet and making this setback look like part of a grander plan.

“Congratulations Jeffrey! You passed,” Pierce says proudly.

“I…passed?” Jeff asks skeptically.

“Oh sure. It was all a test. Secret test of character. Very similar to what we do in my Buddhist church, only without the smoke machines. And you passed with flying colors. I’m proud of you son.”

Jeff decides to let Pierce save face with this weird Willy Wonka bit. It’s the least he can do. “Whatever you say Pierce,” he replies, with only a hint of sarcasm. It’s lost on him, so Jeff switches gears. If there’s one thing he knows about being a lawyer, it’s how to turn a liability into an asset. “Let me ask you something Pierce. Do you really want to save Greendale?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I do. But I’m going to need your help.”

* * *

Jeff and Annie are late. This isn’t unusual for Jeff, as he was never particularly punctual when he was a student, but Annie is almost always early and armed with notebooks, flash cards, and enough scratch paper for everyone. Britta isn’t particularly talkative, as she’s still nursing a hangover a full thirty-six hours after her tequila fueled misadventure. Troy and Abed are whispering to each other and occasionally glancing at Shirley, who isn’t mad, she’s just disappointed. It’s awkward, but Annie’s group text said it was important that everyone be here today, so they stick through it.

Troy finally decides to break the lull. “Hey Abed, I believe there was something you wanted to say, right now, to someone in this room that isn’t me or Britta or Pierce,” he says in a stilted, rehearsed way. He glares at Abed, who shakes his head back at him. Troy intensifies his stare and tilts his head, willing Abed to get it over with already. Abed finally relents and turns to Shirley.

“Shirley, it has been brought to my attention that I can be difficult to work with and that I respond poorly to constructive criticism,” Abed says quickly. “And while I do want to be great filmmaker one day, like Stanley Kurbrick, I don’t want to be an asshole, like Stanley Kubrick. I’m sorry Shirley.” He sounds sincere. Abed’s version of sincere anyway.

“Thank you for saying that Abed. I accept your apology,” Shirley says kindly. “Do you boys need any more help with your commercial?”

“Let’s not push it.”

“You know, I’ve been in several commercials Ay-bed,” Pierce offers. “If you need a leading man, I’d be happy to offer my services.”

Fortunately for Abed, Jeff and Annie arrive before he is forced to fabricate a polite way to turn Pierce down. Each of them is towing a small wagon full of boxes behind them.

“Are those craft supplies? Are we making dioramas again?” Britta asks.

“Not exactly,” Annie says breezily.

“Pierce, remember, let me do the talking,” Jeff says sternly.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder. I’ll just chime in if it looks like you need my help,” he replies.

“I won’t need your help.”

“You might.”

“I definitely won’t.”

“I’m just saying if there’s an awkward pause or…”

“Guys! You Know Who will be here any second,” Annie interjects.

Troy’s eyes widen. “Voldemort?” he asks fearfully.

“Not quite,” Jeff replies.

Dean Pelton, who while bald is definitely not Lord Voldemort, rushes into the study room with an open laptop in hand. “Jeffrey, thank God you’re here.” He takes a seat next to Jeff and shows him the spreadsheet on the screen, oblivious to everyone else in the room. “Now, I was looking over this Excel spreadsheet I made last night, and I think there’s enough money in the budget to pay you at least minimum wage. We may have to cancel paintball next year, you’re worth it.” He smiles eagerly at Jeff, but it turns to a scowl once he looks up from his laptop, finally spotting Pierce. “What the hell is he doing here?” he screams.

“Dean, relax. I invited him,” Jeff reassures him.

“But he’s suing Greendale,” Craig whines. “And he’s making me look like a bad dean!”

“I’ve convinced Pierce to drop the lawsuit.”

“Provided you give me my diploma back,” Pierce adds. “And add a men’s room in the Women’s Studies department.

“Deal!” Craig replies happily. “So glad that’s over. We should have a party to celebrate! Now, I know you guys aren’t a Spanish study group anymore, but I think a Mexican themed party might be a fun and festive. Who’s in the mood for tacos?”

As good as tacos and cultural appropriation sound, the study group has other priorities. “As I was saying, I’ve convinced Pierce to drop the lawsuit. But Pierce isn’t the only threat against Greendale,” Jeff explains. “Not by a long shot.”

“I've compiled a short list of the most immediate Greendale emergencies,” Annie says as opens one of the boxes and passes out a series of thick binders.

“Pending litigation, safety issues, financial shortfalls,” Jeff explains.

“The entire campus is on 911’s blocked call list?” Shirley asks, reading from her binder.

“The black mold is back. I thought we got rid of that.” Abed says as he reads from his copy.

“Half the fire alarms are fake?” Troy asks. “Wait. I already knew that.” He shares a look with Dean Pelton. “I mean, I didn’t.”

“There’s asbestos in the study room. Wait, which study room?” Britta asks.

“And I heard from a friend at my old firm that a former Greendale student is planning to sue to school on the basis that he was irresponsibly educated,” Jeff adds. “Something about a bridge collapse?”

“No one can prove Marvin Humphries was ever a student here!” Craig shouts.

“As your lawyer, I’m going to advise you to stop talking.”

Craig beams at him. “Jeffrey, does this mean…”

“Yes,” Jeff says. “Look, Greendale is a special place. It takes in broken people and gives us a place to make ourselves something better. But in order for Greendale to remain the way it is, it has to change. It has to become the best version of itself it can be, just like the rest of us. And so, assuming your offer still stands, I’d like to take Greendale Community College on as my first client.”

Everyone in the study room cheers, except Craig, who weeps openly. “Thank you. Thank you, Jeffrey!” he wails.

“Now, this is going to be a lot of hard work, and I _hate_ hard work,” Jeff says self-deprecatingly. “Honestly, I can’t do it alone. So, I’m going to need some help. Pierce has generously offered to open his checkbook to protect the school.”

“I wouldn’t mind if there was a plaque or a building or something with my name on it,” Pierce hints. “A statue might be overkill. Although, Luis Guzmán got a statue. Just saying.”

“I’ll defend the school in court. The frivolous stuff I can probably get thrown out, but serious litigation like this collapsed bridge thing is probably going to court. But if we really want to save Greendale, we’re going to have to make it better. Make a degree from Greendale worth something. So last, but not least, I’d like to nominate as chairwoman of the Save Greendale Committee, Annie Edison.”

Annie gives the group a shy wave. Everyone cheers again. Craig is still sobbing.

“Don’t you mean the Pierce Hawthorne Memorial Committee to Save Greendale?” Pierce asks.

“We’ll work on the name,” Annie assures him.

“All those in favor?” Jeff asks.

“Aye!” the group says, raising their hands in unison.

“Aww! You guys!” Annie says happily. Score one for superior organizational skills and a can-do attitude.

“I think that’s a quorum,” Jeff says proudly. “Annie, I believe this seat is yours.” He stands up and pulls out his chair, offering it to her. “Milady.”

She leaves her old seat and takes Jeff’s seat at the head of the table with a cute curtsey. “Milord,” she replies.

“New format,” Abed says, nodding approvingly as Jeff takes Annie’s old chair next to Shirley. “This should mix things up, bring in some new viewers. Maybe renew the interest of some old fans. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

“Well, for my first act as Chairwoman, I’d like to call the first meeting of the Save Greendale Committee, official name to be determined, to order,” Annie announces. She bangs the small gavel Jeff gave her in anticipation of her election. “Now, I think our first task should be to fix the gas leak. Everyone, please open your binders to page three so we can discuss.”

* * *

The committee accomplishes a lot in the days that follow, in the form of a montage for efficiency of storytelling. Troy manages to locate and fix the gas leak. Shirley pitches a plan for a bake sale fundraiser. Abed storyboards a documentary to showcase the Save Greendale Committee’s efforts. Pierce sets up a legal fund for the school, which grants Jeff a modest salary, sufficient to keep him from living out of his car again. Britta suggests a suggestion box, which nobody has the heart to tell her already exists. Jeff convinces the dean to abstain from shredding the Humphries file, on account of the fact that destroying academic records / evidence is illegal, and it’s difficult to shred Legos.

And finally, Annie drafts and proposes the Save Greendale Committee bylaws, which exclude the dean from attending committee meetings, effective immediately. It passes unanimously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to mattaf30 for beta reading and brainstorming with me!


	5. Outro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The customer is always right.

Abed’s commercial for the Law Offices of Jeff Winger and Associates goes over about as well as Shirley expects. Jeff stares at the laptop screen quizzically as the commercial ends. Troy and Abed watch him anxiously from his left and right respectively and Shirley watches the three of them from behind the couch.

“Okay, I’m no expert on advertising,” Jeff says diplomatically, “but I’m pretty sure I should be in my own commercial. And did you forget to include my phone number?”

“So, you don’t like it?” Troy asks, crestfallen.

Jeff shrugs.

“He doesn’t like it,” Abed says flatly. “It’s fine.” Maybe advertising isn’t in his wheelhouse. Not every storyteller is suited to tell every story and some stories aren’t worth telling.

“F-I-N-E, or F-Y-N-E?” Troy asks as Abed storms off. “Abed? Abed!”

Shirley shakes her head. “I told that boy,” she growls. “Should have listened to me. Nobody ever listens to Shirley.”


End file.
